“No. Unless you can tell me how many criminals are on that stealth craft, I can’t run the risk of making the odds against my people worse. If someone is going to die down there,” Geary finished, “it’s not going to be any of my Marines.”
Nkosi looked down at his hands where they rested on the desk before him. “I can respect your logic. But there is no if. Those on the stealth craft will die. Your officers should die as well, not because I wish it, but because my orders allow no exceptions. I will ask permission to allow you to do this.”
“How long do you think that would take?” Geary demanded, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.
“Years,” Nkosi admitted. “To get an answer, that is. Every government in Sol Star System would have a vote, and it would have to be unanimous.”
“Then the answer would be no,” Rione said.
“Only if we are lucky enough to still be alive,” the commander replied. “I cannot deny the truth of what you say. The only way to keep that craft from escaping is to allow you to do this. Otherwise, everyone in this star system may die while the debate on what to do goes on, and the vote never takes place because everything orbiting Sol will be like Europa. I must allow this, but you must know the risk that I personally run by agreeing to allow it.”
“Court-martial?” Geary asked.
“A very short one,” Nkosi said. “The penalty would surely be that proscribed for anyone who fails in their duty to maintain the quarantine.” He pointed downward. “A one-way trip to the surface of Europa.”
Geary felt his next words catch in his throat. “I cannot ask—” he finally began.
“Wait, Admiral.” Nkosi gestured again, this time outward. “Do you know what the duty of the quarantine force would be if the plague escaped Europa and spread among other locations in this star system?”
“I know that the original quarantine ships had to destroy refugee ships trying to flee Europa,” Geary said.
“Yes. We would do that again, everywhere the plague spread. And our quarantine ships would take up positions at the jump points from Sol and at the hypernet gate your Alliance constructed, and we would destroy every craft that came toward those places trying to flee for safety. When the last refugee was dead, the last fleeing ship destroyed, all of this star system lifeless, our final duty would be to hurl our ships into the star Sol.” Nkosi shook his head again, his eyes haunted by visions of that possible future. “Do you not think I would go to my own death to prevent that?”
“Is there any way to prevent them from punishing you?” Rione asked.
“Officially? No.”
“You could come with us,” Geary said. “Back to the Alliance.”
Nkosi smiled. “I believe in facing the consequences of my actions, Admiral. I am old-fashioned in that way.”
“I’m pretty old-fashioned myself. But you don’t deserve to die.”
“You don’t have to,” Rione announced, looking up from her data pad. “What is the single overriding imperative in your orders, Commander?”
He frowned at her. “We have discussed that. Prevent any contamination from leaving Europa.”
“By any means necessary,” Rione finished.
“How did you know what my orders say?”
“That’s not important. The important thing is that our proposed operation is the only means available to you to…”
Nkosi’s frown changed to a look of surprise. “To prevent contamination from leaving Europa. By the letter of my orders, I must allow you to proceed.”
“That will make a good defense for you?” Geary asked.
“Good? No. Perfect. This is Sol Star System. Our people worship written procedures, rules, and regulations like others worship the divine. I cannot be prosecuted for following the letter of my orders. And so I shall not die.”
Geary felt himself smiling for the first time in at least the last several hours. “Are the other ships around here under similar orders? What will they do?”
“They will ask for guidance from their supervisors,” Nkosi said with a shrug. “It is not normally their responsibility to enforce the quarantine though they are obligated to assist if the quarantine force calls for aid. If I do not do that… the only one who might act is Cole on the Shadow. He does not shirk from what duty requires.”
“Will we have to stop him?” Geary asked.
“I will speak to him. Cole is a hard-ass, but he is not a fool. He will see as well as I that we have no choice but to hope your plan succeeds.” Nkosi caught Geary’s eyes with his own. “I will be one of those aboard your ship to personally observe the operation.”
“Certainly. We need you and any other personnel you want along over here as soon as possible, so we can make this happen.”
“I will prepare a shuttle. First, let me call Lieutenant Cole and ensure that he acts with uncharacteristic caution and hesitation in this matter.”
Commander Nkosi was accompanied by two of his senior enlisted, whom he identified as experts in targeting and weapons systems, as well as by his senior medical officer, Dr. Palden. Nkosi stayed with Geary while Senior Chief Tarrini took the two senior enlisted in hand. Dr. Palden, a middle-aged woman with keen eyes, was already hurling questions at Dr. Nasr as they began walking toward sick bay.
“She is a good doctor,” Commander Nkosi said. “Very dedicated. She is very keen on seeing your medical equipment.”
“I want you to see our Marines before they depart,” Geary said. He led Nkosi to the shuttle dock, where all forty Marines waited in ranks. In their battle armor, they looked more like ogres than humans, an immensely intimidating sight even to those used to it.
If Nkosi felt unsettled, he didn’t betray it in any way as he closely looked over the battle armor and studied the specifications that Geary offered. “Extremely impressive,” he finally said. “Our armor would be no match for these, but then we have been at peace for many years.”
Next to the Marines, two extra suits of battle armor lay on the deck. Nkosi looked them over, then bowed his head, closed his eyes, and muttered something too low for Geary to hear. “This is the critical element,” he said to Geary after raising his head. “Do your Marines understand that they must do everything they can to avoid contaminating your officers before they are sealed into this armor?”
“Yes, sir,” Gunnery Sergeant Orvis replied before Geary could. “Admiral, have our orders regarding the hostage-takers changed?”
“No,” Geary replied. “Take them out if you have to but only if you have to. If you can get in and out of there without killing any, that will be fine. Just make sure that craft’s propulsion and maneuvering systems are too badly damaged for it to lift again.”
Orvis saluted, his armored hand rising to the brow of the heavy helmet concealing his entire head. “Understand, sir. Break the ship, but not the crew, unless they make us do it the hard way.”
“Satisfied?” Geary asked Nkosi.
“For my part, yes. I must speak with Dr. Palden, though.”
Geary called sick bay. Dr. Nasr normally maintained an outward appearance of calm, but from the looks of him now, Dr. Palden had seriously rubbed him the wrong way. In response to Commander Nkosi’s questions, Palden grudgingly conceded that the available equipment and planned procedures should be “adequate.”
Nkosi checked with his senior specialists, who displayed much more enthusiasm. “This is really hot gear,” one told the commander. “They can do what they say.”
“I am satisfied,” Commander Nkosi said.
“Board the shuttles and prepare to launch,” Geary told Orvis.